


Kick in the Teeth

by FlyoutViolet (SleepySappho)



Series: The Widening Gyre [2]
Category: Blaseball (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blaseball typical violence, Body Horror, Day X, F/F, evil!Jessica, jessme, pod!Jessica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepySappho/pseuds/FlyoutViolet
Summary: Esme Ramsey fights God, and loses.
Relationships: Jessica Telephone/Esme Ramsey
Series: The Widening Gyre [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968349
Comments: 5
Kudos: 19





	Kick in the Teeth

Jessica's always been hard to look away from. She's always drawn Esme's eye, Esme's focus, at the plate. The way she grins when she adjusts her grip on the bat. The cute little confused blink she does when a strike she didn't expect whizzes by. The absolute, ecstatic triumph when she hits it out of the park again.

For the first time, Esme's eyes lock on Jessica Telephone stepping up to the plate and she feels sick. Jess's hair is brittle, ash-white, her eyes red and pupils oddly misshapen. She's grinning, but it's not that kind, dorky smile Esme knows. It's wide and white and sharp and _cruel_ , the sadistic joy of crushing someone so far beneath you they might as well be an insect.

Jaylen readies for the pitch, arms dragging through the air. She's exhausted. They all are. They left everything they had on the field in those finals, clawing their way back from a two game losing streak. Even Jaylen, the woman who cheated death, is merely mortal. Esme's standing behind her and can't see her face, but she doesn't need to. Her hands are shaking. 

It's a bad pitch, even Esme can see that. Probably safer to walk Jess than try and strike her out.

She swings for it anyway, launching the ball sideways into foul territory. It punches through the stands at Choux Stadium like an artillery shell. It's a good thing the fans evacuated when the emergency alert sounded. 

Play pauses for a moment as an Umpire seeps out of the ground and hands Jaylen a new ball. She wipes the oily residue on her pant leg, and winds up again. She's pitching with her left hand now, her right arm hanging limp at her side. 

Something in the air shifts when the ball leaves Jaylen's hand, turns thick and warm and syrupy, the taste of blood on Esme's tongue. The ball's moving slowly, turning over in the air like it's pushing against something, straining forwards towards the plate.

Right down the middle.

Jaylen's shoulders slump and Jess's face splits into a twisted approximation of that wild, joyful grin of hers as she readies her swing, power building in her shoulders as she twists her upper body and—

The hit sounds like bone snapping, sharp and sick, marrow exposed to the sky. There's a hairline crack running the length of the Dial Tone, seeping a flickering, static-filled blood. Jess doesn't seem to notice, drops the bat callously as she begins her victory lap. With every base her feet touch, Esme can feel something being _taken_ from her, some part of her being drained away. Her legs buckle, she scrapes her hands bloody in the dirt trying to catch herself. The crack of the bat keeps echoing, growing louder, sharper, distorting into an empty, arrogant laugh. 

They've lost. 

Something's burning in Esme's skin, the blood in her right wrist boiling. She doesn't have the will left to hold back her scream, a weak, choked sound. She wishes it were louder so she couldn't hear her teammates. Franklin's anguished howls, Sato hissing, popping like blistering flesh. Vel, sobbing. The pain fades to the throbbing heat of a fresh burn, and scar tears her sleeve open to see a faint blue mark bubbling up from the skin of her wrist, the oblong sigil of the Shelled One. 

Callused fingers cup her cheek, gently turning her face upward. For the first time in two years, she meets Jess's eyes. The red light presses against her retinas. 

When she speaks, Jessica's voice is soft, almost sweet. 

"I am so disappointed in you. You were so weak."

"Jess, I- I love you." It's not how Esme imagined saying it, not how she wanted to, but she doesn't know when she'll get another chance. If she ever will.

Jess blinks, confused, then her eyes refocus, boring into Esme's. She smiles. 

"Oh, _Esme_. You disgust me." 

The hand on her face grips hard, then slams Esme face down into the dirt. Jess walks away. 

Moments later, the storm passes. The Shelled One is gone, and Jess with it. Esme spits the sand from her mouth and rolls over, lays on her back staring into the endless blood-red sky. 


End file.
